My site is starting to feel like home. This is quite an odd feeling, considering no less than a week ago I felt insanely alone and out of place. I have met some amazing new friends, and newly formed relationships are begging to blossom…
It is the rainy season here in El Salvador. When it rains, it rains for three straight days… not cats and dogs, but small oceans. One night, while trying to sleep through the rain, I tossed and turned myself to my flashlight. I have a hard time here separating reality from dreams at night, but at this specific moment I was nearly positive that I heard an odd screech… With my curiosity in full-flex, I flipped on my trusty lampara (thanks Dad) and gave it a quick flash to my right. It was then that I encountered Marcielago*, on the outside of my mosquito net, straight up chillin.
*note. Marcielago is Spanish for bat.
Fast forward a few days
I gracefully woke Marcy from his slumber with the tip of my flashlight… more or less, this pissed him off – a lot. He let out an deafening screech and commenced flying throughout my room, hitting every article of clothing that I had hanging (so much for sonar). It is little moments like these that make me say to myself, “dude… this is so Peace Corps right now”.
At around 6:30pm, I generally get home from the football field (that’s soccer folks) and eat dinner with the family. One particular night, it was straight up guys night. Only me and Don Virgelio… my 70 something father/grandpa here. We normally shoot the shit over the rain, building tables, using machetes, the war and other junk over a cup of coffee during morning. This particular night we added a nighttime convo, in the midst of discussing why we both like Obama (sorry Hill-billy) we seemed to please our audience outside. I went out to the pila to see what all the racket was, and with my flashlight I saw about twenty small frogs… I mean really tiny, tiny guys. They we in perfect harmony singing what I took as Obama’s Opus. It was powerful, poetic and had an amazing crescendo (spelling error?). Later, the old man taught me that these frogs are called Tungas because they make a sound that goes, “tunga… tunga… tunga”.*
*note. These animals at no point make a sound that even comes close to sounding like “tunga”. However, there is no other name that these animals could go by.
Skip ahead a day or two.
I get home from teaching basketball in the neighboring town. My sisters and mom are in the kitchen, which is huge for me because it means I’m eating lunch. While downing some refried beans and tortillas we began talking a little bit animals. This led to me comparing and contrasting dogs here in El Salv to dogs in the United States.
“…todos los perros aqui tienen huevos, pero en las Estados cuando los perros estan muy chiquito nosotros quitamos los huevos de los hombres”.
What I thought I was saying: The dogs here have balls, but in the States when dogs are puppies we nutor them.
What I actually said: “All the dogs here have balls, but in the States when dogs are small we remove the balls of men (humans).”
This comment was followed by awkward stares near my belt and some intense laughing. Shortly after I learned that in El Salvador the people refer to grown male dogs as “perros muchachos”.
Don’t ask me why I was even talking about this, but it was a really funny moment in my life.
Making friends with animals and ruining the image of men stateside,
Jimbo
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3 comments:
You can never have too many lampara's.
Your welcome son.
Dad
p.s. maps come in pretty handy too :)
Very entertaining little anecdotes. So basically you have your first pet (Marcy)! Also, I like the part about the mom and sisters being in the kitchen, but don't tell Hillary I said that :).
Your mom and I were up visiting the Donaldson's in Manastique one summer when you guys were younger. All you kids were in bed and Your mom and i and Cathy and Bob were sitting on the big porch in the main cabin. Out of no where something flies past us and Cathy screams like you wouldn't believe. Anyway it didn't take long to figure out it's a little bat. TO be honest I'm a bit freaked too but Bob and I grabbed tennis rackets. But we could NOT hit the thing, it was just too quick. Finally it landed and Bob grabbed it with a bag or something and put it outside. But any noise you heard that night after getting in bed and for the next few nights really, you couldn't help think ("is that a bat"?. ANyway, so I can relate a tiny bit to when you say that your "curiosity was in full flex". And who knows...maybe that bat was one of your Marcy's great great grandparents :).
Dad
Dad
to dads comment......we were NEVER sleeping at the donaldson's....do you remember the boat house...and that song that you and bruce sang??? good times!!! :)
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